


A Ballad in the Key of Life

by mad_marquise



Category: Genesis (Band), Rock Music RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi, OT3, Slash, ganks, ruthercollinbanks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:56:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4469588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_marquise/pseuds/mad_marquise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's head was filled with dreams, dreams that could only be shared through music and through the physical touch of his closest friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Ballad in the Key of Life

**Author's Note:**

> I have a handful of Genesis fics (and other fandom fics) that I’ve been working on for the past couple weeks and I finally finished this one. It was spawned for my love of And Then There Were Three… it is literally so magical to me (even though I’ve read somewhere that the band actually considered it a ‘so-so’ album??)
> 
> But anyway. This is my first fic for this fandom and I’m pretty darn proud of it~!

Tony Banks was made of music, and he lived off of lyrics. It was how, despite their differences and disagreements, he and Peter always came back together – they bonded over words and the wonderful, whimsical worlds that could be spun from them. He remembered many a night spent one-on-one with the singer, arguing about solos and chord progressions on one song, and then scrapping it in favor of building a new project from the lyrics up. The nights would begin with the two of them on opposite sides of the room, quarreling viciously (without quite screaming, only slightly raised voices, as it wasn’t in wither of their natures to yell) then somehow transform and they would find the distance between them lessening and lessening as they started a new story out loud, until they finally met in the middle, horizontal, wrapped up in one another, whispering some tantalizing new tale, the words murmured into bare flesh as they moved in tandem.

It was incredible to be able to play the songs in his head, to tell the stories in his mind, through another human being. Carefully mapping everything out with one another’s bodies, notes for public shows in the future made during these private affairs.

It felt good. It felt right.

When Peter left, Tony was almost afraid he’d lost a muse – that is, until Phil stepped up and wow’ed everyone with a wonderful, crooning voice seemingly come out of nowhere. And then Mike began breaking out sickeningly sweet guitar parts, and Tony knew that a new bond was on the brink of forming.

It was a slow build, through Trick and Wind, but by the time ’78 rolled around, it was only the three of them, on their own, with ideas filling them to the brim. It was them against the wild world of rock and roll. They fell into one another’s arms as they fantasized about ghosts and goblins and fauns and faeries and magic, and then made the magic come alive through their music onstage. Arenas were awash with synth sounds and guitar solos, nudged along by bass notes and hearty drums, and everything encasing the most beautiful voice.

It affected them. It affected everyone in the audience, of course, but it especially affected the three of them.

Phil, who’d was fairly reserved save for a joke here and there during his drumming-only days, had blossomed into a lively frontman and an even livelier person in his own right.

Mike fed off of the energy, too. Not quite in the same manner as Phil - no, he was more like Tony, quietly taking everything in and giving back as good as he got.

Tony never really let it show, but it affected him the most. He felt otherworldly when they wrote, when they performed.  The stories that he and Mike and Phil told with their music felt almost autobiographical. How else would they know so much about the far-off lands and the people that inhabited them? The detailed legends of love and lust so were finely tuned. It may have seemed strange for Tony to feel so strongly about it, but that was who he was. He was serious, not a cynic. He kept his eyes on the prize, he didn’t fool around, he had a level head. It was just that his head was filled with dreams that needed to be shared, through the music and through the physical touch of his two best friends.

_And Then There Were Three_ _,_  indeed. A trio who were completely and irrevocably perfect for one another, and perfect for Tony, for they were all made of music and lived off of lyrics.


End file.
